View Full Version : City Life
Growing up in a rural area made it pretty much all that Oran knew about. He knew about the seasons as they applied to farming, knew about the markets where people sold what they farmed, knew about supplies needed to be purchased to farm some more. The farmers always made city life sound glorious and adventure filled, some kind of mythical place were incredible and impossible things happened everyday.
Oran had never felt so betrayed in his entire life. City life was just as routine except the tasks were smaller and more numerous, but equally boring. He had been under the illusion that riots and tournaments and fairs and carnivals happened on a daily basis. Everyday was supposed to be a celebration or a declaration of war or some other momentous occasion.
Nonetheless, Oran Tellios had paid to go on a vacation and have an adventure and he was going to get one. Oran pulled out the ad to read it one more time just to make sure, since it had already been two days.
Fun Inc.
Is your life boring?
Is everyday the same?
Ever wish you could go somewhere far away?
Now you can! For the measly price of only 50 gold we’ll come to your house in the middle of the night and take you for the adventure of your life!
Limited time offer, contact Greg Marel as soon as possible.
Sure, he had been slightly alarmed when he suddenly woke up in an unknown city in some cheap hotel room, but it was exciting anyway. Feeling that today was going to be his day, Oran walked out of his hotel room feeling good as normal, choosing to ignore that he hadn’t been able to wash in several days.
Just as he passed the threshold into the lobby he was addressed by the desk attendant, “Sir, a man left me this note to give you when you came down this morning.” Handing the note over, the man stood there just staring at Oran with his hand outstretched, looking intently towards Oran’s bag.
Taking the note and pocketing it without even reading it, Oran’s attention was brought to the hotel worker, his hair slicked back every hour from a pale behind the desk in an attempt to look classier, slightly concerned by the man’s unwavering glare. Spotting the hand and thinking of how he had been scolded as a child for lack of manners Oran shook his hand vigorously, “Is there anything else?”
People did their job and they got paid for it. That’s how it was supposed to be. Why were people suddenly expecting tips for doing what they already got paid for? Oran may not have been a city boy, but he knew when someone was trying to con him. Normally he would have been smirking for being keen enough to avoid blind robbery, but the man had left dirty sweat marks on his marvelous ivory gloves and it was just smearing as he tried to rub it off on his coat.
Today, he was going to explore the marketplace, see if anything caught his eye. Perhaps today there would a bandit robbery, hopefully there might even be a tornado, something he understood to spray goods everywhere and anything that you could catch you could keep. Trekking the couple blocks from his hotel to the market, Oran retrieved the note from his pocket and gave it a quick skim. Its contents stopped him dead in his tracks.
Mr. Tellios,
We have researched you and now know quite a bit about you. We know your favorite color, your favorite food, your favorite drink, even your favorite people. You will be relieved to know that your friend Synthia is in good health, for the moment. This is motivation for you, for your failure to comply will result in her death. If you attempt to betray us then more people will die as well, but we are sure this won’t happen and haven’t chosen who, yet. We’re sure you are wondering what it is that you need to do in order to secure Synthia’s safe release. We have decided that the best adventure for you would be a foray into the life of crime, more specifically thievery. We have selected four items that you must steal before the next full moon. That is three days from the time that you will be reading this. The first item is a glass swan that is Mr. Marx’s prize centerpiece in his window at The Glass Pond. The second item is a pearl necklace from Pirate Bay, it’s on the saleswoman. The third item is a 200 year old red wine from Takir’s Vineyard. You must acquire these items for Synthia to be released safely. There is a fourth item that you can get in exchange for a reward. The forth item will have an extended timeframe and you will be allowed one extra day to retrieve it. The final item you will need to acquire is the guard captain’s purse and you must get it without detection. Once you have acquired the first three items we will contact you with an exchange location and time. Remember, others’ lives are on the line.
Oran had serious doubts about whether or not they really did kidnap his dear Synthia like they implied, but he decided to go along with it anyway. After all, it was still in the name of adventure and he did indeed feel motivated, and a little anxious. Having a limited amount of time to do things gave him an edge, that slight adrenaline high from when it comes down to sink or swim, do or die.
Trying to blend as much as possible with his chestnut hair, Oran decided that the first step in committing a crime was to “scope out” the place first. That’s what all the great thieves in books did, if it was good enough for the great thieves it was good enough for him, that and he didn’t have any idea how to go about it otherwise.
Luckily for Oran, most stores had their names written above the doorways which made locating them considerably easier, especially with the unhelpful and maliciously misdirecting instructions that the locales gave. The first store he was able to find was The Glass Pond, a small quaint building with a large window display in the front and another small display table in the back of the tiny room, giving the owner a clear easy view of everything in his shop. Looking at who he assumed was Mr. Marx, Oran could see the man was pretty old, he had a wrinkly face and had significant bald spot and slight beer gut. The man obviously took pride in his work as well as his appearance. He had a spotlessly clean shirt, dressed like the servant of some great noble, and made a great deal about adjusting the glasses that sat astride his great pointy nose so that everyone would see how well off he was.
Pretending to browse and fain interest in various ornaments, he could overhear Marx talking to some of his customers. He used a very polite and mannered form of speech and made a point of not having time for people that were not interested in making a purchase. Unfortunately for Oran, there were people inside his shop or grouped outside the window almost the entire time.
Waiting until the sun was going down, Oran was left sitting on a bench nearby tortured by the delicious smells of a nearby pastry shop. He hadn’t even stolen anything yet and the guards had been called on him for something called “loitering.” As people trickled out of the market and his store finally began to empty. Oran entered the through the door as quietly as he could, light green hair glowing gently and spreading over the brown from scalp to tip as he crossed the threshold.
There were still several people inside the store and Marx was trying to make one last deal before closing for the night. A mother was examining several glass vases up close as he removed them from their display in the front, leaving the glass door hanging open. Children never listened to their parents, the woman’s child was no exception having already been scolded twice for the playing with the glass, giving him exactly the opportunity he wanted.
As the kid pressed against the display in the back, Oran gave it a slight shake, nothing to major but enough to get the kid in trouble. The little girl had her face pressed against the display staring at the bright and shiny objects, not even noticing the slight vibrations that were beginning to shake the case. Slowly they became stronger and stronger, a long thin vial beginning to wobble precariously, the entire case shaking from Oran’s unfocused efforts. “Almost there, just a bit more…” the strain causing a bead of sweat to appear on his brow and run down into his eye, the salt stung but was not enough to break his focus.
Success!
The vial tipped over finally, shattering everywhere accompanied by the innocent scream of the young girl. Marx’s anger was palpable as his brow furrowed in disgust as he rushed over to ensure nothing else was damaged by the fallen container, he’d have to make a sign prohibiting children for tomorrow. Everyone was staring as the mother chided her child because they would have to pay for it and how the child was unbearable, she was on the verge of hitting her daughter and she didn’t care if people saw it.
Meanwhile, Oran was busily on his way out of the store away from the scene, his hair reverting to its natural color as he slipped out the door and Marx would be none the wiser. He blended easily enough with the crowd, the flood of people heading back over to the residential section after a long day of spending their money. He too was going back to his hotel, his “purchase” safely secured under a bulge in his coat.
Finally back in the security of his room, the shabby (probably bug-ridden) bed and single barred in window, only the absolute necessities. God, he’d never been so tired in his life, he must have been trying to break that thing for hours. Not even bothering to close the shades on the window, he was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.
Somehow, someway, the sun always managed to hit him directly in the eye. Try as he might, he couldn’t roll out of the sun which continued to beam piercing rays into his delicate eyes. Why wasn’t this place ever cloudy? Hadn’t they heard of bad weather, like say, rain?
His inability to exit the light was soon discovered, seeing as he had succeeded in the marvelous feat of wrapping himself tightly in the sheet and falling off the bed, to which the sheets were stuck.
Stuffing the dagger rent shreds under the mattress, it was time to case out the next store. Item number two, the pearl necklace. Traveling to the market for the second time, several things stuck out to him from the day before. The first of which was the large fountain that was the center of the marketplace and the single marvel of the area, the second was the rather foul odor he had begun to accumulate. He’d almost forgotten about how he used to bathe at his house to begin each day, mostly because he didn’t have a bath in his hotel room.
Oh, the looks he got! A quick dip in the fountain and suddenly he was uncivilized, an uncouth imbecile. It was even such an offense that the guards were called on him once again, making him thankful he’d left the glass swan in his hotel. It made no sense, they allowed homeless people to drink from it with their filthy hands and he was pretty sure he’d seen someone’s naked babe jump in after him, but was it in the jail as well? No, it wasn’t. He had the good fortune to have been arrested early enough to make it in-time for morning sludge, the particularly unpleasant tasting prison food. It’d be a wonder if he ever got the taste out of his mouth.
Everyday just after noon the captain would come down to the dungeons to inspect the prisoners, tell them who was new, who would hang, who was going to lose a hand, how pitiful they were, who was getting out, perform the routine beatings, all the usual captain duties.
That’s what the locale ruffians told him anyway, the ones that always got drunk and started bar fights and slept it off in a cell every day or so. There had been an exceptional amount of fighting the night before and so the drunks had to occupy more than just one cell, graced by Oran’s presence. The drunks got let out everyday beating free, which is what Oran wanted, especially because Synthia’s life was on the line. One of the drunks hadn’t woken up, or maybe he was dead, and Oran was going to use him. Scraping up some mud and applying it in copious amounts to his hair, the drunk would resemble a shorter and fatter Oran from a distance. Changing his hair to grey, Oran was going to break out.
The captain was a man of large proportions, living life to its fattest. He had on most of the military gear, chain mail pants and gauntlets, helmet, shield, sword and sheath, but he had long since become too wide for his chest plate and had forgone getting new armor to cover up his food stained shirt and the scent of beef and cheap beer. “Attention, drinkers line up against the wall for count and then you’re free to go. The rest of you, well…” Finishing in what Oran could only count as the cruelest and hearty laugh he’d ever heard, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the guards’ whips stained brown from use.
A wimpy looking guard with a note pad came forward to count the releases, he seemed both bored with his job and harassed by being made to do it. “Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eig-…Hey you’re not the guy they brought in are you?” He was looking closely at Oran, examining his face all too carefully and seemed about to catch on.
Trying to make his voice gruff and a little incoherent, Oran frantically looked at the other prisoners and spotted one with a nasty bruise. “Urr…You seer that he overr dere? I hit ‘em with a bottle.” Finishing halfway through the word bottle with a deep belch directly into his inquisitor’s face, Oran had to hope he had been convincing. Every time he’d been drunk he couldn’t remember anything like how he acted, when he woke up two days later in the woods, or someone’s barn or somewhere.
“Ugh, you were definitely drunk, there’s a thing called mint, you should look into it.” Apparently he’d bought it, Oran was practically home free. Now that he could relax since he was going to get away, he seemed to be thinking clearer and suddenly a thought struck him. It’d been so obvious, how could he have taken this long to think of it? The captain that came to inspect dungeons was the guard captain.
It was just sitting there. Just out of reach. Jingling with every movement. Oran couldn’t take his eyes off it. The black leather purse was right there hung by a few tiny strings from the man’s lasso-like belt and he wanted to take it. He wasn’t even out of the dungeon yet and he was planning another crime, one that would most likely get him caught. Was it a good idea? No. Was Oran going to do it anyway? Of course he was.
Barely managing to restrain himself from attempting wild plans that became worse and worse as he thought them up, Oran managed to last until he got his weapons back just before the jailhouse doorway where the captain was shoving people out the door and telling them how bad he’d be to them if they ever came back. Putting on his most jovial good natured grin Oran walked right up to the captain while habitually flipping his dagger in his right hand.
The captain seemed at first alarmed and attempted to grab his sword but was distraught when his sword hand was occupied by his current lunch sandwich, and by the time he could switch it over Oran already had one hand around his shoulder. Speaking loudly in the best friend-earning voice Oran had, “You know captain, you’re not such a bad guy. Sure you act like a tough guy all the time, but I know you are a gentle giant. Just look at that belly! You ought to be a religious figure. You know this has been a good chat, I’ll be off…Awww.” The entire time he was standing there chatting mindlessly with the captain Oran had been waiting for him to try and take a bite of his sandwich, waiting till his left hand brought it up to his obviously not picky maw.
Announcing the end to his invasion of the captain’s private space, the captain felt it finally safe to take a bite, at which point Oran attempted to lean over his shoulder and take a bite himself first. Sprinting out the door followed by threats of being imprisoned again, Oran had succeeded. The had carrying the knife had been mounted behind the captains back, and in the captain’s attempt to beat off his food’s attacker he hadn’t felt his belt lighten as the cut-purse scampered away.
Elated with his crafty success, Oran felt it was about time he got something decent to eat, cringing at the hours later lingering taste. Following his nose, pies everywhere were in a new immediate danger.
Pirate Bay, the store full of treasure. It was funny, but not in a laughing way, more like the way old milk is funny. The place was filthy, there were scant few items on sale, the best thing in the shop was the people. Out of the corner of his eye Oran could have sworn he’d seen something move. It was pretty run down, a fine layer of dust covering everything and people wiping their shoes on the rug only got more dirt on themselves.
How was he going to get that necklace? Oran was dumbfounded as to how he was to get that string of pearls. He knew he’d get it, he just didn’t have the plan yet. The woman made it difficult, she wasn’t wearing a very revealing shirt and you could only tell she had the pearls if you knew to look for the circular bulge around her upper chest underneath her shirt.
Hoping the off-chance that it was one of the few items on sale, Oran queried about the various wares and made sure to ask especially about jewelry, trying to get her to show it without letting her know that he knew about her wearing the necklace. He was unsuccessful but did learn about a set of pearl earrings, obviously fake as he could see the wax had melted a little on the bottom.
Taking a break from his frustrating search for the pearl necklace, Oran decided to sit on a bench and enjoy a steaming pastry stuffed with meat and gravy and consider his options. He could always try to get the woman alone and just knock her out and take the necklace, but it seemed too barbaric and wasn’t master-thief enough for him. Another possibility was wearing a second shirt over his head and holding up the store and taking it from her at spear point, but again this seemed less thief like and he seemed very likely to get caught using this method. Even as he silently thanked the captain for financing his tasty treat, Oran was at loss for his next action.
Having decided to sleep on it, Oran awoke to the ever-present sun yet another time, feeling slightly chilled laying the floor without a sheet. The bed was just too small to contain someone as active as he was and he would have complained to the hotel manager, but he wasn’t paying for the room and wasn’t entirely sure anyone was.
Still not having a plan, Takir’s Vineyard was sounding much better to him. By the time he arrived at the store, stuffing the last bit of fried egg into his mouth, Oran could have screamed in frustration had he not begun to choke on his over-sized mouthful. Apparently the increase in thefts and broken confidence in the guards from the rumor of them being robbed, with their job being to stop robbers, had caused the locale store owners to invest in personal guards. Not the government funded pushovers either, the freelance muscle armed to the teeth and their beady little eyes. Whoever this Takir was he certainly seemed to be well defended, he even had a huge shaggy dog leashed to a shelf snoozing lazily near the door.
Doing his best to smooth his face and voice to give off the air of a snobbish noble, Oran entered the shop anyway and walked right over to the best dressed man in the place. “Excuse me sir, are you Takir? I am…er…Duke Tellios. I have recently run low on wine, and while I usually have my couriers buy vast amounts from the excellent vineyards of…Concordia…yes, Concordia, I have run low as I had to execute my last courier for being late. I can only hope a man such as yourself will be far superior. I would like to see your best wine, if it is satisfactory then we will talk.” The store keep seemed to be slightly slow but managed to catch most of what Oran said, becoming notably nervous and muttering an agreement and walked towards the back of the shop.
Arriving at an arrangement of especially dusty wines, he broke into his common pitch, “These are fine wines, suitable of a man of your immense station, vintage 32. Will these suit you?” Oran didn’t know anything about wines but he was fairly certain these weren’t what he wanted and probed a little more, “Well, 32 is adequate, but I was looking for something…older. My friend, the Baron of Siet, claims to have a wine over a century and a half old, perhaps you have something similar, yes?” He could only hope that Siet wasn’t an actual place, or at least any place that Takir knew about. “Well, I do have a single bottle that is 206 years old, but I’m afraid it’s not for sale. The 32 is a bargain, five whole percent off for a limited time only, it was a very good year.”
“Surely I can convince you to part with it, every man has his price.”
He’d finally gotten the shop owner to be convinced that he was going to be coming back later to purchase all of his old wine, and to show him the really old wine that he needed to steal. He knew its location, but it was going to be difficult to get too. It was in a box sitting on a shelf in sight of both the dog and the hired hand.
Thinking back to how well the child had worked for getting the glass statue, Oran formed his plan. It would once again involve his brighter side, the fluorescent hair making a comeback. It was time he got that bottle, after all he still had to get the necklace and he was running out of time, and fast.
It took a bit of searching but Oran was successfully able to find his target, much thanks to his nasal capabilities. A steaming plate of spaghetti was sitting on the edge of the table and as hungry as he was, it was not to be. A lone meatball, quivering slowly at first, then rocking, then full on rolling right off the plate, fell to the ground. The meatball slimed its way across the market plaza, making its way to Takir’s vineyard, guided by an invisible hand. Thankfully for Oran it had collected a fair amount of dirt and enabled him to resist picking it up and consuming it. His meals were not always so easy or so often and he had eaten things worse than that before and probably would eat some later but he could resist it at the moment.
To a dog, the highpoints of life are the few hurried moments in which the master leaves a plate unattended, a plate filled with scented unbearable flavor. These moments were almost always followed by the masters’ intense anger and sometimes their fists as well, but it was worth it. If food fell to the floor, it was their sacred duty to eat it up as soon as possible, if there was one single purpose they had in life that was most definitely it. Just letting a meatball roll past the door would have been treasonous, a direct betrayal of masters and an affront to dogs everywhere.
The tremendous crash of glass shattering met Oran’s ears, the trumpeting heralds of a job done right. The precious box also had fallen to the floor, its contents let loose as it popped open for all to see. It was dangerous, he knew that, wine bottles rolling out onto the street and the throngs of beggars and poor people shoving each other to get at the merchandise that had been lost to the street. Fortunately, Oran had something they didn’t. He had a knife and he wasn’t afraid to jab his way to front, guiding the precious bottle rolling across the ground towards him.
Making off with the bottle, Oran could hear the massive bursts of groans from behind as the bruiser broke onto the street swinging his club at all comers. He couldn’t restrain the broad smile from tearing its way across his visage, the life was crime was suiting him well.
The woman with the necklace was a lingering problem, Oran had yet to come up with a solution and was quickly running out of time. Soon the sun would be setting, he was on the last of his three days and he wasn’t entirely sure that he was allowed the night on the third day.
The increased guard presence in the market was beginning to concern him, they were busting in on homes of former thieves and searching them as suspects looking for their culprit so they could save face, at least that’s what he had heard from groups of people he eavesdropped on while they were gossiping. Suddenly he had a brilliant idea, he could only hope it would work, after all he didn’t really have much to lose.
Acting as suspicious as he could, overacting that he didn’t want to be scene, Oran approached a guard. “You know those guys down at the Pirate Bay? Awful shady looking ain’t they? I even heard that the woman working in there sometimes, you know, borrows things, things that never get returned.” Slinking away from the guard in an even more suspicious manner, Oran failed as tried to keep the evil laughter inside from spilling somewhat onto his face.
The sun was down, but he was sure the last two days worth of work would not be wasted. He needed only a bit more time, and that necklace would be his. He’d planted the purse he stole, minus the gold of course, in Pirate Bay and it would only be a few minutes before the guards raided it.
Sure enough, she was caught in the vicinity of the item and the guards promptly made a long winded announcement covering how they tracked the thief mercilessly and would capture an entire crime ring with what they learned and how although it looked bad, they had planned it all along. Finding the guard he’d tipped off, Oran went ahead and inquired as too any items she made have had on her, listing some made up items as well as the necklace as things that had gone missing from him or his close friends. The guard gave him her belonging partly because they were “stolen” and partly because he hadn’t told the guards he was tipped and wanted it to remain that it was his hunch. Another success in the bag, albeit he felt a little guilty putting a probably innocent person in jail, but it was better than getting Synthia killed.
Returning back to the hotel lobby, it didn’t take Oran very long to locate the slick haired attendant, promptly receiving yet another note, this time the man was wise enough to not even bother holding his hand out for a tip.
Mr. Tellios,
You’ve done good so far. Tonight a man will stop by the lobby wearing a blue jacket. Put all the items in a bag and give it to him. Once the exchange is successful Synthia will be released as promised.
Sounded simple enough, and he had a few hours to kill. Oran was still feeling uneasy and of course resulted to the one way in which he knew how to relax. Four meat filled pastries and an iced beverage later, he was feeling pretty good about himself. When a hooded, goggle wearing figure walked into the building it took Oran a while to realize who he was. Right after handing over the bag, it was time to sleep and as he headed to his room he faintly remembered hearing the sound of footsteps, As he entered the room, the feel of rough cloth against his face and a strange smell were the last things he remembered.
Waking up in the bed he slept in for most of his life, Oran wasn’t completely sure he hadn’t dreamt it all. Even if he hadn’t he felt good about himself anyway. An adventure in a dream is still an adventure and it had been fun. As with all dreams, there are things that are accepted as fact that are only questioned when our conscious self thinks on them.
“Who’s Synthia?”
1. Introduction: 3 – I would've liked to have seen MUCH more character description, history, memories from the past, so on and so forth. All in all it was a decent introduction and you did describe in partial detail the various locales. I would've liked more though, maybe alluding to places he'd been in the past that related or were similar to ones he was at in the “dream”.
2. Setting: 4 – I can't lie, you utilized the various locales well. Having Oran bathe in the fountain was a stroke of mad genius and didn't go unnoticed. I would've liked more use of each setting and maybe a clearer picture of the city itself.
3. Strategy: 4 – Once again, you utilized Oran's abilities and the various locales to Oran's advantage. The sandwich munching little newbie thief did well to get the guard captain's purse. You have serious talent here and I would consider continuing to play to that talent.
4. Writing Style: 2 – Here's where I have to get a little harsh. There were far too many spelling/grammar errors for me to give you a higher score. Plus the innate brevity of each post and the story itself threw me. You have quite a bit of talent already and I think with some fine tuning you can be one of the better writers here. Also, note that the flow of the thread here was really off. Each post did flow to the next, but it's repetitiveness really hurt you.
5. Rising Actions: 4 – This was both good and bad at times. The quest hit a lull rather quickly, but then immediately picked up again. I could see a character progression within Oran as he goes from newbie thiefling to a journeyman level thief. It was good. The action absolved rose to a certain level. More feeling and emotion from Oran would bode well in this.
6. Dialogue: 4 – Normally I would've judged you less in this category given the lack of dialogue within the quest, however I think you did an excellent job of alluding to much dialogue outside of what was physically spoken. If I were you I might consider going in more detail with each interaction, and playing out more of it. The prison interactions got you the score here.
7. Story: 3 - This is supposed to be Climax, but being the kind of quest it is, I changed it to Story, to suit the thread's needs. The story was decent, had a solid storyline and had some plot twists, however, it was short. It meandered to a point and then just died. Next time, even though it was a dream, I'd like to see more description, more detail, more effort really. You did good, but I know you can do better.
8. Character: 4 – I think you did excellent here. You didn't attempt to have Oran be an all-powerful kind of character. You even had him thrown in jail which is a kudos on your imagination. I would've liked to see more character growth, but hey, no objections to the overall character of Oran. Quality work here.
9. Conclusion: 3 – I could tell you almost got lazy at the end, just happy to have finished the quest. Maybe I'm wrong, but it happens to everyone all the time. I wanted more, but I will tell you that the very fact that I desire to read more of your work, got you this score. You would do well to continue on your journey to greatness bud. You have a solid future ahead of you. More detail as always.
10. Wild Card: 5 – This was strictly due to your fair amount of cunning and ingenious. Your chartacter plus strategic maneuvers got you a good score here. Good work.
Total: 36
Special Note from judge: Next time I would put more detail and more description and just more into each post. There was so little that the thread almost read like a children's book. I can tell you have significant ability, and hope to see more from you. Good luck in your future endeavours.
Now on to the spoils:
Experience Points Earned: 475 Experience Points Earned.
Congrats! I'll get an admin to take care of adding this to your total.
Thoracis
04-24-06, 11:40 AM
EXP added!
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